


Forbidden Flesh

by zorotokon



Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9709124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorotokon/pseuds/zorotokon
Summary: Remmy, still high off the success of #sheepfacts finds himself a new meat in the most unlikely of places, and learns a bit about Zootopia's illustrious past in the process.





	

**_Forbidden Flesh_ **

So #sheepfacts had been half failure, half success. Next time, read the paper you hand out before you give a copy to everyone you know. Lesson learned. The success part had been teaching my neighbors a little about me. I might be the master at putting my hoof in my mouth, but I do eventually wise up to things. Even if it takes me several months, ostracizes everyone I know, and almost kills me in the process, I DO learn! Today I’d learned just how fucking lazy I really was.

No work today, Ozzy had disappeared, and I’d spent most of my paycheck on the tacos for the talk, so the fifteen bucks in my wallet was going to have to last the next week. Fridge was empty except for the wrapper the cheese had come in. I sometimes get it out just to smell it and remember. I’ll buy some more one day. Not today though, and probably not in the foreseeable future if I kept hosting talks with free food.

I did need to eat though and I wasn’t a charity case so no groveling at my neighbor’s doors. Not yet at least. The grocery store I had in mind was a bit more of a walk than most of my usual haunts, but it was in a just nice enough neighborhood that food was still cheap, without being made entirely out of plastic and asbestos like the kind you got around Pack Street proper. As I passed through the lobby I waved at Marty and Avo. Marty was too engrossed in his book to notice me. Avo looked like she was trying to melt into the couch, her usual lollipop almost slipping out every couple seconds. She waved back halfheartedly. She was in her work uniform and her gym bag was at her feet.

“Long day?” I asked.

“Fucking inventory.” Avo replied. That’s all I needed to hear. Checking inventory, be it at a store or a warehouse, was quite possibly the most mind, soul, and body crushing experience to have hoisted on someone. You do a full day’s work, then you have to count everything in the store, and write it down. And I mean EVERYTHING. Ever tried to count how many plastic spoons are in a 150 pound shipping box that was torn open during transit? Imagine that, times a billion. She probably just got here from leaving yesterday.

“I feel ya,” I said. She grunted in reply and closed her eyes. Marty seemed more interested in his reading than a conversation, so I let him be.

The walk to the grocery store would be long, but this part of Zootopia was flatter than a sheep’s front teeth. Should I keep using that saying? Would my pack get it? I just thought of them as a pack. My pack. Fuck that was still something. Not weird, not anymore, and even if it was it would be a good weird.

“Get outta the road, jackass!”

I jumped back into my skin as the car whizzed by, nearly clipping me with the side mirror. Fuck, if I’m gonna be introspective I’ve gotta do it on the sidewalk. The road I had nearly become part of was named something unpronounceable with too many silent t’s. The store was supposed to be near the rainforest district, but I should double check my phone. I reached into my pocket and it was empty. I checked my other pockets, was I wearing a jacket? Did someone steal my jacket? No, I don’t even own a jacket. That means I left my phone in my apartment.

Shit.

Okay, so I took a right when I left the apartment, and then it was two blocks, turn, three blocks more, then…

Shit, shit.

Where were all the animals? This place is supposed to be pred central, and it was almost night time. I spied a gas station at the end of the street. They should be able to give me directions. Or try to mug me. Or give me directions to someone who would try to mug me. Ah, come on. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Now is not the time to panic, or assume the worst of people.

I walked to the station, and, like a shining beacon of familiarity, there was a taco truck and a big maned lion filling its tank.

“Neil!” I waved as I ran up to him.

“Remmy, hey!” He waved back, leaning around awkwardly to keep his left hand on the nozzle. He turned back to the truck, and spoke again. “Look, it’s just not smart for me, even if there was a market, it wouldn’t be where I set up.”

I padded around to see who he was talking to, some grey coyote who was leaning against the truck. Slicked hair and sunglasses, but a t-shirt with some alien conspiracy theory quote and jeans with a sizeable rip below the right pocket kind of threw off the whole city slicker look.

“I can understand the trepidation, but if you just gave it a chance rather than shooting it down without a second thought, you might be surprised.” The coyote spoke like he had majored, minored, and gotten a post doc in enunciation.

“I can’t afford surprises.” Neil replied, his voice flat.

“Is this a bad time?” I asked.

Neil looked back at me, and almost did a double take. Must have been a hell of a conversation if he forgot about me that fast. “Oh, shit, no it’s not, here, sorry, I just, gotta, here.” He squeezed himself around the coyote, who grabbed the nozzle before it… Why was Neil holding the nozzle? Those things don’t fall out, and they turn off automatically. “I’m glad as all to see you, Remmy, cause I need an extra pair of paws to restock the cart.” His face did some strange gymnastics as the words tumbled out. “Uh, that is, if you wanna. Not trynna force ya here, and hooves work fine too I just meant, so just, yeah.” He slapped his forehead with a palm. “Damnit, I did it again. Can’t go one conversation with you without this happening.”

“Neil, you know I don’t care,” He pulled a face, so I continued quickly, “About what you say, we’re friends.” Hopefully. “And friends help friends out.” He smiled back at me and the gas pump dinged, the coyote busied himself with the nozzle before coming out from behind the pump and I got a better look at him. This was the biggest coyote I’ve ever seen. Normally they tend towards smaller than a sheep, but this guy had at least half a foot on me. He was nothing compared to Neil still, but most people were nothing compared to Neil.

He shot out a paw, I went to grab it but he tapped my hoof and withdrew as he introduced himself. “Fieldman, at your service. Nice name, Remmy. Got a last to go with it?”

“Oh, dude, geeze,” Neil threw his head back again, what was he on about today? “I am just at like zero for twenty today, guys.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the coyote, “Remmy, this is Coy Fieldman, my fish supplier.” Coy nodded, and Neil indicated towards me, “Fieldman, this is Remmy Cormo, a friend and fellow taco enthusiast.”

“Pleasure,” Fieldman stated, although probably not true.

“Like wise,” I replied. Man, making sure that I don’t turn every douche canoe I meet against me was going to be hard.

“Anyway, Remmy and I should probably be heading out,” Neil gestured to the truck, making various movement gestures as he slunk around the coyote.

“Ah, actually, if you will indulge my curiosity.” Neil visibly sank. There has literally never been anything good that began with someone indulging their curiosity. “You said that Remmy eats at your truck?” Neil nodded. “Then, Mr. Cormo,” I don’t think anyone has ever called me Mr. Cormo. Did anyone ever even call my dad Mr. Cormo? Fuck this dude was wigging me out, and for a sheep, that’s a lot of wig to out. “Would you be interested in a little taste test? My treat.”

I had been famished when I left, but the walking had dulled the pain. Now that the possibility of free food had been brought up my stomach began rebelling with full gusto, judging by the sound, the kidneys and the liver may have joined in too. I looked at Neil, he was already in the truck, head on the steering wheel, Coy was smiling at me with all his teeth, in that special way that predators like to use when they were trying to unnerve me. Not this time. “Well, I can’t really say no to free food-“

“Wonderful, after you and Neil have concluded with operations we will retire to a nice quiet kitchen somewhere and get down to the real business of cooking.” He left a big pause between business and cooking, and the but that had been in my throat when he jumped in withered away. I nodded, he smiled. He left for his own car, a grey sedan, looked sleek, but not really the kind of car a sociopath would drive. Or was it exactly the kind of car a sociopath would drive? I’m doing it again, shit. I got in the truck.

“Coy leaves a hell of an impression, doesn’t he?” Was Neil's attempt at an ice breaker as we pulled out of the station.

“Is it okay with you if I pretend he doesn’t exist?” I said, my hunger getting the better of my manners. That got a snigger. Looks like Neil wasn’t super found of Coy either, so I got bold.

 “Dude had creepy mofo vibes coming off him so hard I thought he was vibrating.” Another half quashed snort, then Neil coughed into his arm and tried to pay attention to the road.

“Ah, he’s okay most of the time, but he was giving me the hard sell and I guess you got caught in the crossfire.”

“What’s he selling?”

Neil stiffened, “Remember when you asked if you can pretend he doesn’t exist?”

“Pretend who doesn’t exist?”

“Ha, exactly.”

 

The work was nothing I wasn’t used to. Pick up frozen boxes, put them someplace else, repeat until out of boxes or someplace else’s. Neil shoved a wad of cash in my hooves when he dropped me at the apartment and sent me off with his freshest taco, extra lime, extra hot sauce, on the house. It was so great that I forgot for a moment that I would normally eat four or five for a meal, but he had driven off by the time my stomach reminded me. The cash was about fifty bucks in small bills, which was enough to see me to the next paycheck at least. Avo was still in the lobby, although Marty had been replaced by Annie and Wolter, who were trying to stack objects on Avo’s head without waking her. I watched for a couple minutes, chewing my taco as the twins argued about the balancing capability of the remote versus this candy bar versus the spare change they had scrounged out of the cushions.

My taco didn’t last long, but it also didn’t take the twins long to run upstairs, gather a handful of their toys, and start to add them to the growing stack on Avo. This seemed like a great time to leave.

My apartment was unlocked, which meant that Charlie had probably been through for some reason. My phone was on my night stand, where I always kept it. I am an idiot sometimes. I picked it up and inspected the rest of my apartment for missing objects or planted evidence. It seemed clean, although one of my favorite shirts had gone missing. That probably wasn't Charlie though. My phone buzzed in my pocket: Neil.

“Hey man, how’s the night going?” I said.

“Too great, Remmy,” In the background I could hear the hum of the truck, he was probably standing at his stove right now, frying up some delicious fish. The thought made my mouth water. Fuck I was hungry. “And by too great I mean I already sold out and it’s been thirty minutes.”

“That was fast.” Neil did a killing with his truck, but thirty minutes was impressive even for him.

“Yeah, probably due to your assistance earlier,” He was joking, but Neil always sounded so genuine so I couldn’t help but let a smile slink its way onto my face.

“Need some more assistance then, or is this a social call?”

“Ha, ha, you got me. Actually I wanted to talk about tonight. You got a stove in your place?” I looked at my kitchen.

“Yeah...” It probably worked. I hadn’t ever personally turned it on, but others have, and it worked then.

“Cool, see you in an hour for the test, bye!” He hung up before I could say anything.

I let my phone drop back into my lap. It’d be nice to have company over, especially a friend outside of the pack. Neil was cool, too, maybe I’d gain some points with my neighbors if they thought I had more friends.

I let my eyes wander around my apartment, fantasizing about what the taste test might be about. Coy wasn’t high on my people I’d want to see list, but if he sold Neil his fish, he had at least one thing going for him. My eyes hit my sink, it was full of plates. The garbage was full too, overflowing in fact. How long had that pile of clothes been on my coffee table?

“Oh fuck,” I swore to myself that I wouldn’t get this messy but here I was, living in squalor and filth when a very good friend and his creepy business partner were coming over in an hour. I dashed around the room, cleaning things, throwing utensils in drawers, putting dirty clothes in trash bags and shoving them into my closet, I even pulled out my spare sheet and laid it on the dining room table as a cloth. It probably wasn’t too noticeable. The garbage went out the window, and it landed in the dumpster with a satisfying bang.

“What’cha doin’, fluff?”

I jumped at the voice. Avo was standing in my doorway, her head lolling to one side. She didn’t look any better than she had when I left, and now there was an impression of a remote on her forehead.

“Cleaning.” Technically true.

Avo swayed into the room, her usual saunter turned into an erratic half step that caused her to almost fall over more than once. I caught her as she approached and lowered her onto the couch. “You got a date?” I moved my hoof back and forth in front of her eyes, no response.

“Not a date, just, spring cleaning.” I mentally hit myself. It was September.

“Oh, okay, spring cleaning in autumn, got it.” She slowly fell over on the couch, her lollipop almost escaping. I couldn’t tell if she was just repeating what I said or her sass was still kicking after twenty eight hours of straight work. When her eyes closed and her breathing slowed I just cleaned around her.

“Remmy!” Again I jumped. Avo was standing right behind me, or rather, leaning heavily on me as her legs gave out. “I figured you were cleaning so I brought you this!”

In her hands were several sticks and a bent piece of wood. I took them as she slumped onto the carpet.

“Incense? Thank you Avo, this is,” Avo wasn’t behind me, or in the room. I found her snuggled under my covers, with a tiny smile that reminded me so much of a child that I didn’t have the heart to wake her. I closed the door as quietly as I could and lit the incense. Opening the window and apartment door created an air flow that helped pull the musk I had been cultivating through my lifestyle out of the building. The burning incense also smelt great, like cinnamon and wood smoke. I rearranged the kitchen. Should I light candles?

What the fuck am I saying? Of course I shouldn’t light candles. I set the table anyway, borrowing a chair from Charlie so I had three. She didn’t ask why I needed it. I turned back on the TV, keeping it low. After about five minutes I heard a knock. It must have been Neil because no one else I knew would bother knocking. I opened the door to let both Neil and Coy in. Neil was still in his work stuff, jeans and a tight t-shirt. Coy had a large pack on his back, and a Styrofoam freezer.

“Welcome to, uh, Casa Del Cormo.” Neil nodded appreciatively, Coy beelined for the kitchen, where he began unpacking.

“Not a bad place you got here, Remmy, but where’s the rest?” My face must have betrayed some confusion because he covered his mouth with his paws. “I mean, where’s, like your bed and stuff, I wasn’t trying to say this place is small, and, aaaaaaagh damnit.”

I couldn’t help but laugh this time. “My bedroom is through that door, but I can show you that later.” That sounded less like a porno in my head. I escorted Neil to the dinner table and had him sit down before I went to fuss over Coy. He had placed a large black pan on my stove and had it going good. He had brought basically everything a kitchen needed with him, as I definitely didn’t own a cutting board, or that many knives. He was chopping mushrooms when I walked up.

“So what’s on the menu tonight?” It was a joke, but he replied instantly.

“Baked and breaded tilapia with a lemon and caper sauce for me and Neil, but for you,” He patted the Styrofoam freezer next to him. “You’ve got something a bit higher class, pan seared with mushrooms and caramelized onions over a bed of wilted spinach and sprouts.”

“That sounds, uh, great.” I had recognized about three quarters of the words he had used. He had recited it like he was reading a restaurant menu. Maybe that’s where he had gotten it? He was somehow less creepy when he was holding a knife, and he had lost the sunglasses. Instead he had on a pair of regular prescriptions. He probably needed his sunglasses to see, which is why he was wearing them during sunset. Way to be an asshole even now, Remmy. At least I hadn’t said anything.

It was the concentration that soothed him, I think. Neil said he was pushing for a sale when we first met, now he was just cooking dinner. Less tense situation I guess. I joined the lion back at the table. He had acquired a beer from somewhere and was leaning heavily to the side to watch the TV.

“How many people call you a lion lifter per day?” I had been sitting on that joke since I first saw him at the gym. He snorted into his drink, almost losing it. “Come on, man,” I handed him a napkin. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“It was a little funny.” He reached below the table and pulled another beer up, popping the top off with his claws. Okay, so there were two cool tricks to do with claws. I just wish my neighbors did this one instead of the normal lock picking one.

“Thanks.” I took the beer and turned to the TV with him. A football game, Zootopia’s favorite religion, and our most popular sport. The action was paused because a player for the orange team had gone on all fours. It was pretty hard to see the white and black ball on my dinky little set at the best of times, but the angle only exacerbated the eye strain, so I turned back to the table and just kept it in my peripheral.

Neil gestured to the TV. “Too bad the Four Elevens aren’t playing today, would love to see some Zelwegger action.”

“Four Elevens?” I more followed basketball, even then my knowledge was spotty.

Neil laughed, then he realized I was serious. “Four Elevens is the local team, Remmy, how’d you live here this long without knowing that?” I can’t say for certain. Probably because Wolter and Al were the big sports fans in the building, and, given the choice, I’d rather hang out with basically anyone else first. Except Marty.

The oven dinged and Coy came over. When I saw the fillets he placed on the two plates opposite of me, I knew that I was in for something else. This wasn’t just taco truck food, these looked like they came out of a magazine on how to taunt hungry people. The smell was intoxicating, and if I didn’t have my mouth closed, I would have started drooling right then and there. Instead I took another pull of beer and hoped that mine would be just as good.

“Thanks Coy.” Neil said. Coy nodded and returned to the kitchen, grabbing my plate as he went.

“That looks fucking amazing.” I could barely keep myself from sliding Coy’s untouched plate over to me, just to be close to its presence.

“Yeah, Coy’s a pretty good chef when he puts his mind to it.” Neil cut off a big chunk and put it into his mouth, chewing noisily and with his mouth open before continuing. “He says that a fish salesman not knowing how to cook is like a doctor not knowing how to take pills.”

I laughed. It was barely a joke but my stomach was doing flips. God why was I so nervous. Then a smell hit me. It was like chocolate, but made of meat. It smelled like sex, or bourbon, or the night after too much of both. The plate that Coy was carrying positively stank, but in the overpowering way that makes you want to just keep huffing it because it ignores your nose and just tap dances on your brain. He put a small medallion of meat in front of me, stacked high with everything he said it would have. It glowed. It shimmered. It was like looking into the sun and at a gaping vagina. Impossible to look away from, but you’re going to get fucked if you keep looking.

“What is this?” I fumbled for my utensils. This was not hoof food.

“Just try it.” Coy replied, watching me. Neil was watching me too. God I was already so nervous. I tried some of the mushrooms, exquisite. The onions, perfect. The spinach, a bit overdone for my taste, but it was wilted spinach, you can only do so much with that. Then I cut off a bit of the brown meat before me. It was red at the core, with a tiny pink fringe on the outside. I took a bite.

I died. My head exploded. My heart went into overdrive. I could feel the earth shifting beneath me, hear the steps of animals hundreds of miles away. This wasn’t heaven, this was the opposite of heaven, this is where sin was invented, and then perfected. It did to my mouth what a hundred, thousand dollar whores couldn’t do to your dick. I saw the light, and it was glorious and terrifying.

“This should be illegal,” Was all I managed.

“It is illegal.” Said Neil.

“Was,” Said Coy.

I took another bite. The initial taste was less overpowering now, but then it hit my throat. It fought and clawed its way down, like I was drinking living lava, but it was too good to stop.

“What is it?” I squeaked out between gulps of beer.

“Yeah, what is that?” The echo came from my door where Charlie was standing, her shirt pulled up over her muzzle.

“It’s red meat.” Said Neil, completely straight faced. Charlie actually opened her eyes. My chewing didn’t even falter.

“It’s fish.” Said Coy.

“It’s red meat.” Said Neil.

“It’s tuna.” Said Coy. Charlie shook her head and rolled her eyes at us.

“You’re fucking crazy, Remmy.” Then she left.

“It’s red meat.” Insisted Neil.

“There are some minor similarities.” Said Coy.

Tuna? All I knew about tuna was that it was fucking expensive, and apparently a fish.

“Charlie just ran by, and, oh fuck, what is that smell?” The new visitor was Betty. I took another bite instead of answering her. Coy repeated that it was tuna.

She looked at me, then at Neil, then at Coy, then at my meal. I pulled the plate closer. Not this time. No one was going to take this euphoria away from me. I cut off another piece and ate it in front of her, tears streaming from my eyes.

“Remmy, are they forcing you to do this?” Betty sounded genuinely concerned. I didn’t care. This was a trick to get my tuna.

“No. I am doing this because I want to!” It was a stupid comeback, but my entire brain had been rerouted to my tongue, and hadn’t been given any sort of memo that intelligent conversation was needed within the next three to four weeks.

Betty shook her head, she seemed frightened, or scared maybe. I took another bite. Betty suddenly didn’t matter. The taste hit me again. I wanted to throw the table across the room, run around the block, stick my dick in a light socket, I didn’t fucking know. This was so good I was fucking furious. How did I not know about this before, how am I not eating all of this right now? How the hell does something this delicious exist at all? Why did no one fucking tell me about tuna?!

Coy and Neil were in some sort of conversation. I had lost track of it when the smell had hit me. I think I was sobbing, I couldn’t tell. I could barely see anymore, but I knew where my tuna was. A big blob appeared in the light of my doorway that could only be Al. A high pitched whining from his hand betrayed the presence of Marty as well. I couldn’t let anyone else have this, this was mine, all mine, and mine alone. I ate the last bite. The golden mist descended, and I let it carry me away.

When I finally opened my eyes, Neil was looking at me with concern, Coy had a big stupid grin, and Al just looked mad.

“Hey mutton chops, done tripping?”

On the table was Marty. I didn’t care this time. Let him be on the table. Let him insult me. I had found inner peace at the end of a dinner fork.

“You two, out.” Al didn’t have to clarify who he meant, and Coy disappeared without a word. Neil at least gave me a shrug and a wave as he left. Al closed the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” That was my alpha, always worrying. I nodded. I had never been more okay in my entire life.

“Would you look at what they did to him.” Marty again, talking more about me than to me, and that was okay too.

“Remmy, do you know what tuna is?” Al again.

“A fish?” I’m pretty sure Coy said it was at some point.

Al sighed, Marty got angrier. “A fish? A fucking keystone in the development of predator kind and you refer to it as a fish? I outta bring out my copy of the _Primary Chronicle_ so I can do how stupid you sound some fucking justice!” Al rumbled a warning and Marty flinched, then continued. “Since you don’t seem to be in the know, Tuna was illegal for the past three hundred years for cultural and biological reasons.” He took a deep breath and went into full lecture mode. I didn’t pay attention.

“When the predator council first started striving towards unity with the prey at large, it was decided that only certain species of animals could be eaten by us, bugs, fish, shellfish, and that’s about it. No mammals, no exceptions. However, there was an aristocracy that didn’t want to give up their cake, so they turned to tuna, which is so much like mammal flesh that only someone in the know can tell the difference. Are you in the know now, Remmy?” I didn’t reply. “It got a bad history because of this, leading to a several century long stigma because it followed the law in word, but not in spirit. Eventually predators willingly gave it up to improve relations. It got unbanned when Lionheart came into office because of pressure from big fish.” Marty had a lot of air in him for such a small animal. “Nowadays most predators are sick just at the thought of it, and you,” Marty poked me in the chest. His tiny claw almost tickled. “You just ate a goddamn tuna steak like it was fucking ambrosia.”

I shrugged. “S’good.” Al placed his hands heavily on the table.

“Remmy, listen.” He looked into his hands, then at me, coming up with words. “What you did wasn’t wrong, not legally and not morally, but, well.” He rung his fingers out, pausing again, “It’s just really fucking weird. Weirder than usual, even for you.”

“Classic psychopath.” Added Marty.

“What? No, I’m just a sheep.” I couldn’t even sit forward. It had been a tiny steak but I felt like I had eaten for days straight. “I just like tuna.”

Marty actually shivered. “That’s like someone saying I’m just a sweet giant polar bear and all I want is for you to breathe deeply from this rag and get into my van. It’s just wrong, man.”

Al gave Marty a look. Marty apologized. Then Al spoke again. “We can’t help the way we’re made, but, warn us if you eat it again. It’s a shock. To all of us.” I nodded. Al and Marty saw themselves out.

I don’t know how long I sat at the table. It could have been minutes, but it was probably hours. Long enough to fall asleep. I woke when Avo touched me on the shoulder. She looked better.

“Thank you for the use of the bed, but it smells too much like you to get any real sleep in.” I was still in no state to reply. “Was it true that you ate an entire tuna steak, in one sitting?” Was that awe in her eyes, or fear? I nodded anyway. “Man,” She walked away, fresh lollipop in hand, “You’re a sick, sick bastard, fluff.” She turned back to me at the doorway. “That kind of thing turns me on.”

I didn’t often get to have self-congratulating smirks, but I allowed myself a big fat one as I cleaned up the kitchen. There had been some leftovers from Coy and Neil’s meal so I went to stash them in the fridge. Inside there was a long white tube of parchment paper. On it, in long cursive letters was written: “Compliments of the Chef, Forbidden Flesh.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happens the night after #sheepfacts, but before Savages. Comments and criticisms more than welcome.


End file.
